


once upon a december

by isloremipsumafterall (orphan_account)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, There's background Flea/Sylvie cause this is me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/isloremipsumafterall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos is determined to pull off the con about the lost princess of Savoy, Connie may very well be his ticket in</p>
            </blockquote>





	once upon a december

**Prologue**

 

The laughter of young girls echoed in the empty palace chambers as Constance and Anne rounded the corner, Constance in the lead and yelling in delight as Anne failed to catch her. The servants watched them with both amusement and worry, hoping that neither would upend all their hard work for the ball that night.

 

They were only brought to a halt by Treville, Anne’s bodyguard who cleared his throat loud enough that both girls froze.

 

“Hello Monsieur Treville,” They said together and curtsied, Constance wobbled only a little.

 

Anne walked up to him with a smile, “Must we leave so soon? Can’t we at least stay for the ball.”

 

Treville shook his head but smiled back at her, “Your parents want you back in Paris tonight,” He reminded her, resting a hand on her shoulder and then passing her her bag, “Say goodbye to your cousin.”

 

Constance made a face at the news, upset by it. After all Anne was her age and the only friend she had in this palace sometimes, she hated seeing her go.

 

Anne caught her face and giggled, walking towards Constance, “I have something for you,” She reached into the bag and pulled out a round box.

 

Constance peered at it curiously, “What is it?” She took it in her hands and turned it over, looking at it from every angle to discover it’s secrets.

 

Anne took it back from her with a secretive smile and then pulled out a necklace, without much further ado she placed the necklace in a slot on the box and twisted it around a few times. The box popped open and began to play a soft tune, figurines emerging from the box to dance around to it.

 

Constance gasped happily at it, taking the box back and watching them dance with a soft look in her eye.

 

“So you can remember me while I’m gone,” Anne said and pulled one of Constance’s hands towards her to place the necklace in her hand.

 

“I will,” Constance swore and hugged Anne fiercely, standing aside to watch her leave with Treville and waving her goodbye.

 

She didn’t notice the boy watching them curiously as he ducked out of his duties to help set up the ballroom, instead she wound up the music box again and played it, thinking of her favourite cousin and wishing that time would go by quicker.

 

 

* * *

 

Savoy was alive with news, papers littered the streets with the picture of Constance Bonacieux on them, tales of the lost princess inspired Savoy’s memories and for the first time since the palace had been raided and the lives of the royal family lost – all except for Constance of course – people recalled their rulers with fondness.

 

“She was beautiful,” A merchant informed Porthos as he purchased his meal for that morning. “Like a star in the night.”

 

Porthos chuckled at the sentiment, saluting his approval and walking off whistling. In one hand he held one of the papers where Anne pleaded the country to find her cousin and begged for her safe return. It was the opportunity he hadn’t even realized he’d been waiting for but was more than willing to take a chance on it now. All he needed was his partner.

 

He was about to take a bite out of his apple when he noticed it was missing from his hands and he sighed, “Flea.” He stated calmly and from his right she stepped to his side, his apple in her hand with several bites taken out of it.

 

It was surprising to think they had once worked in the palace instead of on the streets of Savoy, certainly no one could have guessed it.

 

“So are we ready for today then?” Flea grinned broadly, “To find our own lost princess?”

 

The plan had been Porthos’ once he’d seen the reward. A brilliant idea to pass off a woman as Constance and take the money for themselves. They’d even had an advantage over the other scam artists seeing as how Porthos had a trick up his sleeve, or rather a music box.

 

Fifteen years ago he’d been in the palace when it had been attacked, he’d been the one to help Constance get to safety but in the ensuing event she had dropped her music box and he’d picked it up. It would be the perfect thing to convince Anne that they were in fact presenting her with her cousin.

 

“Let the search begin,” Porthos offered Flea his arm and she took it with an over exaggeration that he used advantage of to steal back his apple as they walked towards the old theatre they had commandeered for the search.

 

After six hours however he wasn’t feeling so optimistic.

 

“Is it just me or does every woman in Savoy think they can be Constance?” Flea drawled, leaning back in her chair with a disappointed huff, “Even if they’re well over the age.”

 

Porthos dragged his hand over his face with a growl of frustration and muttered under his breath several curses.

 

“Oh relax,” Flea patted his arm, “We’ll find someone,” She stood, making her chair hit the ground with a loud thunk and stretched before she pulled him up to and dragged them back to their homestead, the abandoned palace that no one would set foot in because they claimed it was haunted. Of course he and Flea were what caused those rumours but no one needed to be aware of that fact.

 

They’d only just gotten settle back down again when there was a noise in the hallway that alerted them that they had a guest and Porthos signaled to Flea to go back around to corner whoever it was.

 

He began walking silently towards the main hall, ignoring the unsettling feeling of the portraits watching him, and spotted a young woman staring up at the portrait of the last family who had lived there, into the young face of Constance Bonacieux.

 

“Can I help you?” Porthos asked, making her jump and scream in alarm as she whirled to face him. Her red curls fell out from under the hat she wore, spilling around her face and framing her wide blue eyes.

 

He froze, looking up at her and couldn’t help but see the resemblance between this young woman and the portrait behind her. It could have been like looking at a ghost to the past and he couldn’t help himself as he began to grin.

 

The woman cleared her throat, “Are you Porthos du Vallon?” She asked, “I heard that you could get papers to cross into Paris.”

 

Porthos raised an eyebrow in consideration, “Could be, depends who’s asking?”

 

The woman raised her head just a bit, stubbornness exuding from her, “I am clearly.”

 

He held his hands up in surrender, “All right, now why do you need to be going to Paris then?” From the corner of his eye he could see Flea sneaking up behind her and minutely shook his head, making her stop where she was in the shadows.

 

“Because…” The woman’s voice faltered and she sighed, “Because it’s the only thing I can remember when I think of my family.” He gave her a puzzled look which she made a face too and continued on, “I don’t know who I am,” She explained, “I was found on the streets and taken in by the orphanage and I just need to get to Paris and maybe find my family.”

 

Porthos hummed in consideration loud enough for the woman to hear, “I’d like to help you but…”

 

“But?” the woman asked, putting her hands on her hips and ready to fight whatever he was about to say.

 

“But I’ll be departing Paris tomorrow and only have three tickets, one for me and my friend and the last one is for the lost princess; you see.” Porthos shrugged and pointed at the portrait behind her that the woman had been staring at, “You do look an awful lot like her mind you.”

 

He could see the hesitation in the woman’s face as she looked briefly over her shoulder towards the portrait again and then turned back to him, “Maybe I am.” She said and held her head up once more. Porthos just stared at her and she rolled her eyes at him. “Fine, I’m not. Isn’t there anyway you could help me though?”

 

She sounded desperate enough that Porthos nearly broke his façade anyway but he swallowed and shook his head, “Sorry but no. However,” She perked up at that, looking at him with hope written all over her face, “You have a point. Maybe you are. Or could be.”

 

He could tell he’d gotten her attention and she narrowed her eyes, “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m just saying, I don’t know any better. You don’t know any better…but then again maybe not.” Porthos shrugged and turned away, taking only three steps before she called out for him.

 

“Wait!” She followed him down and walked out in front of him, forcing him to stop. “I’m the lost princess.” She stated and her mouth was firm determination.

 

“Oh?” Porthos shot a look behind where Flea was, “What do you think, Flea?”

 

“She certainly could be,” Flea said as she came up behind them, “I’d believe it.”

 

The woman shot Flea an annoyed look, “Do you often sneak up on people?” She demanded except both Porthos and Flea ignored it. After looking between them she sighed, “I just said I was didn’t I?”

 

“She’s certainly got some of the attitude down,” Flea muttered to Porthos, who kept it quiet to himself that he actually admired this woman’s determination.

 

“Then we can take you to Paris, help you meet the Queen there and find your family,” Porthos said over Flea just in case the woman could hear her. “You already know I’m Porthos, this is my accompli- er, friend, Flea.”

 

“Connie,” She said, but she didn’t look like she loved being called that, making a face at her own name.

 

“Well then, Constance,” Porthos stressed the princess’ name, making Connie less tense in the process, “Shall we head off to Paris?”

 

She looked so delighted when she smiled at him it momentarily shook him but he pressed on with a smile of his own and ignored the gnawing guilt that was in his stomach suddenly. This was just another job, besides, if they could convince the Queen this was her cousin then this woman would be fine, amnesia or no amnesia.

 

He reminded himself that as they boarded the train the next morning, carrying all their bags and grumbling about it as Flea and Connie both ignored him in favour of Flea talking about the Queen’s relatives that Connie would have to learn.

 

Connie poured over all the notes Flea had created for her, her brow furrowed hard in concentration while Flea had fallen asleep from all the quizzing in the seat next to her.

 

“Suppose you’ve learned it all then, yeah?” Porthos asked, finally breaking the silence that was beginning to get to him.

 

Connie looked up and jutted her chin out stubbornly, “It’s not that hard. I think I’ve even heard of some of their names mentioned before, like here,” She held out her notes to Porthos and pointed at a name, “My cousin’s step mother, Marie de Medici, she has a soldier with her at all times that she’s having an affair with.”

 

Those certainly weren’t in the notes and Porthos raised one eyebrow at her, he’d also never heard that rumour but Connie looked so certain of the fact that he shrugged.

 

“Maybe steer clear of mentioning that all the same.” He told her. She huffed and pulled her book back, looking over it again.

 

Clear that he was being ignored once more Porthos tried to amuse himself, slipping his bandana off his head and deciding he might as well fix it now. It had a hole in it that he’d had yet to sew up but trying to fix it on a moving train was beginning to frustrate him and he growled in annoyance.

 

“Here,” Connie leaned over and plucked the bandana, needle, and thread from his hands. With nimble fingers she began stitching it up, so rhythmic it relaxed Porthos as he watched. “This thing has seen better days,” Connie noted, “Why don’t you just get a new one.”

 

Porthos shrugged, “I’m sentimental.” He caught her bemused smile at that statement and felt compelled to explain. “A man once trusted me enough to give me a job at the pal- high location.” It probably wasn’t best Connie knew he and Flea used to work in the palace, it was better she not know their whole story. “It fell through but that symbol’s important to me.” He nodded at the bandana in Connie’s hands. It had once been a part of his old tunic and the symbol was slightly faded and hardly recognizable but still meant something to him.

 

Connie finished up her stitches and ran a finger over them, looking at it in contemplation and then leaning over to tie it around his head once more. “It suits you.” She said, “I’m sorry you lost that.” Her voice was soft, like she was losing herself to memories.

 

He remembered what she had said, about her family and the orphanage. Porthos reached out to take her hand in his and squeezed slightly, “Thank you.” He said, his smile a bit more pressed but trying to relay that he understood.

 

In return she relaxed and smiled back, it was only dimmed slightly by the wetness in her eyes but Porthos was relieved to see it all the same.

 

“I should get back to this.” Connie looked down at the book she’d left at her side and sighed, “You really think I can do this?”

 

“You’re as beautiful as she was.” Porthos said unthinkingly and then pulled back, rubbing a hand over his face to hide his embarrassment. He grunted and shifted in his seat to spread out and fake like he was going to go to sleep, peeking up at Connie from the corner of his eye to see her tugging at a curl and smiling in consideration.

 

It wasn’t a bad view to fall asleep to, he thought.

 

~~

 

From the next city at the train they took a boat and the lessons continued onwards.

 

“Dancing, especially in the royal palace, can be a handful.” Flea said bright and early the next morning, far too awake and Porthos glared at her. Next to him Connie was slightly more alert but stifling a yawn. “So,” Flea gave them a sharp look, “You need to pay attention, now Porthos…if you don’t mind.” She waved her hand at Connie indicating he was supposed to take his position.

 

“Uh,” Porthos cleared his throat and didn’t look Connie in the eyes as he rested one hand on her hip and catching one of Connie’s hands in his other.

 

“Connie you need to put your hand here,” Flea stepped over to help Connie arrange herself so that her other hand was on Porthos’ shoulder. “Now look at each other and follow the music.” Flea kicked him as she moved away, a warning sign to do as she instructed.

 

Porthos rolled his eyes but did as she said and looked down at Connie who was staring at her feet in worry. “Just follow me.” He told her, “Least we can look like fools together.”

 

Connie’s laughter was broken by the sound of Flea playing her flute and Porthos stumbled as he tried to perform the steps. It was never something he’d been good at and he vaguely hated that Flea had put him in this position.

 

Connie’s eyes met his and her back straightened, unlike him she seemed to be having an easier time and gracefully met the tune as needed.

 

“I think maybe you should be following me,” Connie retorted and grinned playfully, switching her hands so that their roles were reversed and she was leading. Porthos didn’t even question it, merely followed and stumbled a lot less along the way.

 

“Well that’s not quite as I pictured but there’s certainly hope for you.” Flea said once she stopped playing and Connie and Porthos were sitting side by side, out of breath from the livelier tune she had played. “Come on Connie, we need to check something else.”

 

“She’s horrible.” Connie muttered to Porthos. “I’ve changed my mind.”

 

He snickered as Flea pulled Connie up and pushed her along. Connie looked back over her shoulder and mouthed ‘help’ to Porthos but was soon out of view. Porthos shut his eyes with a smile, enjoying the breeze from the ocean.

 

“Well?” Flea’s voice woke him with a start. Sometime after they’d left he’d fallen asleep but it couldn’t have been long judging from the sun in his eyes.

 

“Well what?” Porthos asked, his voice deepened by sleep and he rubbed at his eyes.

 

“I think she means me.” Connie said and Porthos looked up, “What do you think?”

 

His voice felt dry as he tried to talk that had nothing to do with a lack of water, without her hat Connie’s hair had fallen in curls around her head, framing her face that Flea had scrubbed clean and the blue of her dress brought out the blue in her eyes. Porthos stood up but he still couldn’t find the words, just staring at Connie.

 

Flea elbowed him and grinned, “I think that implies approval.”

 

“You look lovely.” Porthos mumbled, just loud enough for Connie to hear him.

 

She ducked her head and flattened her skirt with her hands, twirling it around just a bit and then looked up slightly to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

 

“Anytime.” He managed to say as Connie walked off to the railing, her back to them as she took in the sea below them.

 

“Having trouble Porthos?” Flea drawled. “You’re not having second thoughts are you?”

 

Porthos gritted his teeth and shook his head roughly, “Just still waking up is all.”

 

Flea hummed, “You know it’s okay if you are. Porthos,” She sighed and rested a hand on his arm, “Connie is a good person. Can we really put her in this position?”

 

Guilt welled up in his throat that he swallowed down. “We don’t have much of a choice.” He said gruffly and then shrugged off Flea’s hand to return to his cabin. Trying to rid himself of the guilt he was feeling but having little luck.

 

~~

 

“That’s it?” Connie voice whispered in his ear, she was leaning heavily on him as she tried to catch a peek of the house they were heading to.

 

Her hair brushed his cheek and he tried hard to ignore how she felt against him and nodded. “That’s the place. Flea has a friend there who knows the Queen.”

 

“Friend is hardly the word.” Flea snickered next to them and Connie and Porthos exchanged an amused smile before they both realized just how close they were.

 

Connie flushed as she sat back down in her seat between Porthos and Flea and nervously fidgeted with her hands. “You’re sure I can do this?”

 

“I have complete faith in you.” Porthos said and rested his hands on top of Connie’s. She grinned at him and he returned it easily, ignoring Flea staring at them.

 

As they stepped out of the carriage Connie took his hand again, almost subconsciously as she looked around in worry. He was surprised but didn’t let go as they walked up to the house.

 

“Flea, my dear,” Sylvie answered the door, looking much like Porthos remembered, “Welcome to my home.”

 

Flea answered her by rushing towards her into a hug that turned into a lovers embrace and he and Connie looked away to give them their privacy.

 

“Come on,” Porthos said, tugging her inside once Sylvie and Flea parted and when Connie took a seat he reluctantly let go and leaned against the wall.

 

Sylvie exchanged a look with Flea and then cleared her throat to prepare to quiz Connie. His heart beat hard in his chest as she answered everything perfectly up until the last question.

 

“What can you really do to prove you’re the lost princess?” Sylvie asked, her eyes sharp and Porthos knew it was just because she was close to Anne and worried about her being betrayed by hope again.

 

Connie looked lost in thought as she answered, “The palace. There was…a boy, and a compartment in the wall. He got me out. And…I still dream of my cousin’s face, her laugh as we ran around the rooms.”

 

Porthos froze and next to him Flea pulled at his shirt, “Did you tell her?” Flea whispered to him.

 

He shook his head numbly and continued to stare at Connie, his mind rushing through the possibilities. It had to be her. She had to actually be Constance – no one else could know such a thing.

 

Sylvie hummed and then nodded, “I’ll try to set up a meeting. Flea,” She rose, “Do you care to join me?” The two of them walked away but Flea shot Porthos one last panicked look.

 

“How did you…?” Porthos began and Connie’s head shot up.

 

“I don’t know.” She replied. “It was just there.” She hesitated, “Now what do we do.”

 

“Wait.” Porthos shrugged, until they met the Queen there was nothing they could do. “I could er, that is if you want to, show you around town?”

 

“Have you been here before?” Connie asked, a smile playing across her lips. Porthos shook his head sheepishly and Connie stood up, taking his hand again. “Then I guess we’ll get lost around town together.”

 

The idea sounded more perfect than anything Porthos had heard in a long time.

 

~~

 

Paris was more lively than Savoy and seemed to never sleep, everywhere they looked there was something to do or see.

 

Connie kept looking around, taking it all in while Porthos tried as subtly as he could to check on her. Given the latest revelation the guilt he had felt was swarming. All he could remember was Connie saying that she wanted to find her family – that she wanted to belong.

 

It was a sentiment he could feel as well but had tossed aside for the reality that he needed to survive.

 

“Porthos,” Connie finally said, looking up at him, “Do you think…could I be her?”

 

He swallowed hard before answering, “It’s what I thought, isn’t it?”

 

“Thank you for believing in me then.” Connie smiled and stood on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

 

“We should be getting back to Sylvie’s,” Porthos said, looking away from her. He couldn’t stand to see the hope in her eyes and know that he’d just been playing her this whole time.

 

When they arrived Sylvie had returned and gave them a sorrowful look, “The Queen doesn’t want to meet anymore.” Sylvie sighed, “She’s tired.”

 

Porthos looked over at Connie who was just heartbroken but trying to work through it. He scratched at his beard in thought and caught Flea’s eyes. She raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded.

 

“We might still have an idea.” Porthos said, “Think you can get us tickets to the opera?”

 

Sylvie looked surprised but nodded all the same.

 

~~

 

Connie kept looking across the room to the box where Anne sat, resolutely ignoring the play, not that Porthos blamed her. He wasn’t paying attention either, he kept looking over at Connie and wishing she would look back at him.

 

“How are you doing?” He whispered to her and Connie turned towards him. Her hair was swept up in an elegant bun that Sylvie had done, it left her face completely open and honest but Porthos missed the way the curls framed it.

 

She smiled at him nervously and he reached over to take her gloved hand and couldn’t help that it didn’t feel right. Her dress was made of silk and barely made noise as she moved, it was the sort of thing a true princess would wear, not the lavender dress and corset he’d gotten used to in all their time together.

 

“I think I’m fine,” Connie finally said and her smile widened. There was no hint of uncertainty anymore, no shadows over her face on a past that left her haunted.

 

Porthos felt he was holding onto her hand in vain as she turned away from him to look down at Anne once more, like he was clutching at something that was no longer at his level.

 

He kept quiet and still held her hand all throughout the play.

 

When it was over he told Connie to meet him at the house and made his way through the crowd towards the Queen, praying this plan of his would work. On the otherside Flea was distracting the Queen’s guards, coyly flirting with them and she winked when she saw him.

 

“This way, your Majesty,” Porthos bowed low and grabbed Anne’s elbow, leading her towards the carriage he had issued.

 

She tried to pull away from him but he didn’t stop until they were both inside the carriage.

 

Her eyes narrowed at him, “You realize you won’t get away with this.”

 

Porthos shrugged, “I’m not trying to.” He said honestly, “Just trying to make sure a woman gets her answers.”

 

Anne looked at him sharply, “You’re him then? The man Sylvie told me about – I don’t wish to meet your charade of my cousin. Take me back to the palace and I shall be lenient on you.”

 

Porthos barely refrained from yelling, his hands curling into fists and he forced himself to breath out and relax, “Please.” Porthos said and dug into his pockets to pull out the music box that he’d kept all these years.

 

Anne couldn’t contain her gasp and reached for it with shaking fingers. She met Porthos’ eyes and nodded slowly, “Very well, I’ll meet her.”

 

They arrived at Sylvie’s house and Porthos offered his hand to Anne as he stepped outside the carriage, like Connie’s before it was gloved, far too soft and off a high calibre that he had only dreamed of.

 

It was what he had wanted and with the reward money it was what he could have. It didn’t feel as welcoming anymore.

 

“Here,” Porthos led her to the room where he could hear Connie pacing, he let Anne open the door and enter herself, not looking at Connie when she looked at him and letting the door close behind him.

 

Flea met him in the hallway, her arms crossed, once she saw him she sighed. “You’re doing it aren’t you?”

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Porthos retorted.

 

“Oh so you’ve completely missed that you love her and just want her to be happy now?” Flea raised an eyebrow. “And that you’ve bought a ticket out of the city?” Porthos bristled under her accusations but couldn’t refute them given how true they were. “You should at least tell her goodbye.”

 

“She’ll forget me soon enough.” Porthos shrugged, “It’s done Flea.”

 

Flea shook her head as he left, back out into the streets of Paris. Perhaps she was right and he should have said his goodbyes to Connie but he couldn’t face her in the knowledge that she’d be happy without him. She’d have the life she was always meant to now that was robbed from her and he’d move on to the next thing in his life that would lead him to some mediocre of wealth and respect.

 

Porthos made it all the way to the docks before he heard his named called out.

 

“Porthos du Vallon!” That was undeniably Connie, so was the red in her face as she stormed up to him, “What on earth were you thinking?”

 

Porthos gaped at her for a moment and then shook his head to brush off the surprise, “You’re supposed to be with the Queen.”

 

“I was with my cousin,” Connie cleared her throat and straightened her back, “And I remembered Porthos, I remembered so much and then I realized something.” She looked up at him, “It didn’t matter to me anymore. I had someone who believed in me regardless of my title, who cared and…who didn’t take the money and just wanted me to be happy.” She shifted a little on her feet and looked up at him shyly, reminiscent of the moment on the boat when they had been about to dance. “I mean granted he’s a fool for doing so.”

 

Porthos rolled his eyes and huffed but then caught Connie’s sly grin, “Anything else he did?”

 

“Well there’s more thing’s that he didn’t do.” Connie said, “He hasn’t kissed me yet.” She put her hands on her hips, “He hasn’t told me he’ll stay because seeing him leave would break my heart.”

 

“And what would he do if he stayed, hm?”

 

“I heard the Queen’s Guards could use some more members. And that they stay close to those they’re assigned to.” Connie met his eyes and jerked out her chin, stubborn as always. “So?”

 

Porthos reached up, pushing back the curls that had spilled from her bun and letting them catch on his fingers. She wasn’t wearing gloves as she caught his wrist, looking up at him pleadingly.

 

“I could live with it,” Porthos admitted, “If she wanted.”

 

“She does.” Connie told him and stood up just a little on her toes, her lips nearly touching his.

 

“Well then, can’t refuse it.” Porthos grinned and then pulled Connie closer to him for a kiss, like he’d wanted to so badly since their dance.

 

He’d never thought himself a soldier of any kind before but something in his mind said it would suit him and he’d retain the loyalty he’d always wanted.

 

All though more importantly it meant that Connie- Constance was there with him and he with her. Nothing would ever feel as right as that again.


End file.
